


Drabbles: Overwatch Edition

by artoni



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 16:51:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10416672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artoni/pseuds/artoni
Summary: Shortfic & drabbles that aren't quite long enough for individual works. Warnings/notes/summaries are per chapter. Contains explicit work, first chapter is SFW.





	1. Breath of Life [Mercy76]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had to happen sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon prompt; "mercy finds out 76 is really jack, stuff ensues……"

It had to happen sooner or later.

A bad shot, a worse landing, and the next thing he'd known he was jolted back in to consciousness with a gasp as a _jolt_  of energy forced itself through his body and a too-distant voice cried, _heroes never die!_ Bleary eyes immediately zeroed in on the source - the woman over him - who had a hand pressed to the patch of red at his chest.

"Stay down and let me look at you," she ordered, and 76 couldn't quite bring himself to disobey. Everything _hurt_ , damn it, and with a wheezing breath he let his fell back as she opened his jacket to take a look at how badly he'd been injured. Apparently enough to warrant a full surge of her staff?

 _God damn_ , he thought. _God damn. **God damn it** ,_ he added for good measure, realizing that no, she couldn't, he couldn't let her-

Hands grabbed her wrists just as she sucked in a sudden breath, and he raised his head with his grimace hidden by his mask. Up until now, he'd been relatively safe; his body could heal most of his injuries on his own, and he'd refused the proffer of a medical check-up with adamant stubbornness. He wasn't stupid, to think she was - his body, scarred and aged as it was, told a story with every mark on it that any doctor could see. And the doctor who'd tended him for _years_  would _recognize_  what they said, would recognize _him_ , and he felt a deep feeling he couldn't quite call 'dread' as she looked up towards his visor, desperately searching for his eyes.

"Jack?"

* * *

She couldn't say much more than that before a shout of, 'Medic!' caught her attention. Hell, she couldn't risk staying there, but he gave her that final second before letting her go, gruffly _ordering_  her away before he checked his cover and finished his once-over. Plenty of blood, freshly healed tissue, but he'd live. He tugged his shirt and jacket back in to place, picked up his rifle and headed back out. In fact, he would have very much liked to pretend the whole thing never happened, thank you, but already knew that there was no chance she'd let him go.

He was proved right when, once the dust had settled and they were picking up the pieces, she all-too-casually added, "And I'd like to see you after debrief, 76."

Their gazes had met, and he'd been the first one to look away, grunting in acknowledgement. He had all of the ride back to mull it over, avoiding her as best he could and she- well, she let him. Didn't approach anyway, even though she could no doubt tell he was watching _her_. Watching how she gently chased after everyone _but_ him, checking on their injuries, and everything was the same with grumpy old 76 finding a corner to rest and clean his gun in. Nothing out of the ordinary, no change.

None but what her expression had been, pained and so much else, and that sinking feeling that had rolled in his gut at the sight.

* * *

He stood before the door, angst churning inside, trying to find the nerve to step in. Finally, after a heavy breath and convincing himself that it'd be worse to be _seen_  like this as opposed to actually getting it over with. And so he made himself hit the panel, only to find...

...well, pretty close to how he remembered it, anyway. Clean and sterile without being at all unwelcoming, the beds currently unused but ready at a moment's notice. And her...

Angela had changed out of her Valkyrie suit, of course, its functions unnecessary when not on the field of battle. A sharp contrast to 76's habit of sticking to his familiar clothing whenever possible, even with the supplied changes of clothing. She looked up as he came in and smiled warmly, no differently than she'd greet anyone else-

-but for her eyes. Her eyes had that same _look_ in them, he could tell from a distance, and he let out a heavy breath in preparation for what would no doubt follow.

But to his surprise? She simply gestured at one of the beds with an, "I'll be with you in just a moment." 76 blinked behind his visor, momentarily frozen in place as she gathered her things, and only moved when she politely cleared her throat. Chagrined, he made his way over, easing himself down on to it at her prompting. Following her hands at her prompting, too, removing first his jacket and then his shirt.

It was...surprisingly easy to do. _Familiar_ , and comforting in that, and it stole any words from his mouth as she professionally looked him over. First the fresh wound- it'd torn through his side, and if not for her surge, might have done permanent damage. As it was, the healing had been jumpstarted, but time would cement the job. And then she was moving on to other recent ones, her hands so gentle, her voice so calm and able to carry the conversation despite him being absolutely silent until he could finally, _finally_  relax.

This was just about at the time she began to touch the ones faded with time. All of them she could find on his torso, tracing memories and quietly naming them as if to rid any shadow of doubt. Only when his masked face turned towards her did she slow and finally grow quiet...but she waited until he looked _up_  and _at_ her to raise those hands, touching either side of his face.

"May I?" she asked, so soft and with such a look in her face, and whom was he to deny her? 76 let out another slow breath and nodded, reaching up to assist. The piece came off easily, revealing the two it hid behind, as well as an aged face that _he_ , at least, only looked at when shaving or washing.

He couldn't bear to see it otherwise, but it seemed to light up her own even as she choked on a sob. 76 - _Jack_ \- blinked, and then grunted in surprise as she threw herself upon him. A moment of he hesitation and he brought his own arms up to hold her as she wept, alternatively berating him for hiding so long and thankful to anything he was _alive_ and-

"They can't know," he murmured, voice low and urgent. Meant to catch attention, and it _did_ , her wet eyes raising to his. And Angela, thank whatever gods there _were_ , needed no elaboration; she bit her lip, then nodded, emitting an aching sigh as she pulled herself off.

"I locked the door as soon as you stepped in," she told him with a wry little smile, one that had his own lips tug. "I thought that...perhaps you weren't ready."

"I'm not." His gaze dropped again, glancing off to the side. "You weren't supposed to know. It's better off that way."

"Jack."

Her voice pulled him back. With her hands at either side of his face again, looking down at him, she _felt_  as much as looked like the source of comfort and solace he remembered from so long ago, when his personal demons would haunt and torment and keep him up until night turned to morning and he would simply trudge on. As opposed to now when he simply tried to _use_ them, but even so, he knew he was running on ashes.

And as she leaned in to press her lips to his forehead, to murmur, "It's better when I can support you _properly_ ," he allowed his eyes to close and, just for this moment, allow her breath to stoke flames he had thought had gone out for good years ago.


	2. Grind [R76, NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d be hard pressed to put a name to this state.  
> !!!NSFW!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by an image (also NSFW), originally posted http://artoni-arts.tumblr.com/post/158437756344/pixielovepunch-dat-angsty-otp-drawn-for on 3/15.
> 
> Tentative warning for dubcon (as in there's some reluctance, but spoiler they're both in to it)

"I- fuck-"

He'd be hard pressed to put a name to this state. He's not _upset,_ per se, even though tears are running down his face unbidden and unwelcome. They've barely begun and he feels hot all over, overwhelmed, and unable to do much more than wriggle with the lengths of (shadow? nanites? smoke?) whatever securing his arms behind him. They're pliant but unyielding, and unmistakably _inhuman_ \- same as the claws pushing up his shirt, scraping against skin, and a shudder runs through him as his hips are dragged forwards against another set of armor and cloth.

76's eyes are closed, but he doesn't need to see to hear the heavy breathing next to him. Even if it's filtered through a mask, he can vividly imagine the other's face, just adding age to memory. Salt and pepper hair to match his own stark white, intense eyes, a hungry brush of his tongue over his lips as he takes in the man riding him-

And god, he knows he has to be a sight. He's thankful nobody else is around to see ( _hopes_ , desperately, no one else is around to see) him rut against Reaper, a man who's tried to kill him more times than he can count to say nothing of vice versa, to say _nothing_ of what happened between them in the past, but that's just _it._ It's that past that has him gasping for breath as he grinds desperately for any sort of friction, clothed cock aching, and oh, god, he remembers how they used to act after a mission, couldn't wait to get in to each other's pants-

That mask brushes against his face, all but nuzzling him. "Haven't changed at all, Jackie," the voice rasps, and 76 - _Jack_ \- can't tell if it's filtered through or if that's somehow what Reyes sounds like, now, like his voice is echoing from beyond. It somehow makes him even harder, and he chokes back a sob as a claw drags further up, pressing against the sensitive bud of his nipple. Toying with it, and he _knows_ it could hurt, knows Reaper could hurt him in any number of ways here, paranoia is screaming at him to _get away, he'll kill you, get away **get away you don’t want this**_

Yes, he does. He wants Reaper, _Reyes_ toying with him, wants to fucking forget about the mess the two of them have become, and he throws his head back with a pathetic-sounding whine as _something_  slips in to his pants and oh, god. _Oh, god_ , he wants this, wants to be driven out of his mind for a while. " _Please_ ," he begs, no room in him left for shame. Maybe later he'll reconsider how wanton he is, but right now he just _wants_. "Please, Gabe, please-"

A hand around his throat forces him back to awareness, choking him without mercy, and his eyes fly open in surprise as he struggles to breath. His vision, blurred with tears, can barely make out that mask glaring at him, a growl escaping it as the man underneath harshly corrects, " _Reaper_."

He could laugh. Maybe he tries to, a little hysterical, because, fuck, what's the point? What's the point in fighting it, either, 76 using the last of his breath to choke out the name as best he can before that grip relaxes, allowing him to suck in the oxygen his body so desperately craves. But not nearly as much as it craves that something wrapping around him and fuck, fuck, _fuck_!

A chuckle by his ear suggests he's saying that aloud, but _fuck that, too_. He uses what leverage he has to try and keep grinding against the leg between his, mindless in his need, and letting Reaper continue to whisper nonsense as, for a rare night, Soldier: 76 allows Jack to come back and revel in the fact that he's still alive.

And clearly, as much as the man refuses to admit it, so is Reyes.

* * *

 


End file.
